


tonight we are victorious

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: ( like Anto ), Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Banter, Celebrations, Dorks in Love, I Don't Even Know, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Game(s), Resolved Sexual Tension, Short & Sweet, Timeline What Timeline, Tongue-in-cheek, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>♫♪ <i>Tonight we are victorious</i><br/><i>Champagne pouring over us</i><br/><i>All my friends, we're glorious</i><br/><i>Tonight we are victorious</i> ♪♫</p><p>Or: the one where Fernando celebrates Antoine's two goals against Barcelona.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tonight we are victorious

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say ? Listening to Victorious by P!ATD inspired me. Whoops. 
> 
> (I think you should listen to it too, while reading this, for full effect. Even if it doesn't seem sexy or fitting?? Because why not?? Quality song.)

    Two goals in one night.

    Against last year's champions: Barcelona.

    Boisterous music spills from a speaker one of the team had set up, having used a cord to plug into his phone, the song blaring in the secluded area of the locker room. Glimmering eyes flicker about the sight of fellow teammate's hanging off each other, shrieking at each other euphorically, singing out of harmony with the song that continues to play.

    Thin lips quirk into a small smile as one freckled man in particular comes toward him, easily lifting him in the air, the Frenchman wrapping his legs securely around his waist. Strong arms hold him snugly against his chest, soft chuckles spewing from his lips, as he nuzzled against the side of Antoine's head.

    "You were shining out there," breathes the Spaniard as he presses a kiss just below the brunet's ear.

    Antoine can only beam at the compliment, maneuvering an arm to playfully ruffle Fernando's hair. "Was I?"

    Fernando withdraws from his neck, coining him a purse of the lips, the expression swiftly fading into an amused smile. "Get that smug look off your face, you know you did good—amazing, even. Two goals in one night? Against Barcelona?" He whistles, reluctantly letting the brunet return to his feet, the shorter male smirking despite himself.

    "Couldn't have done it without everyone else though," modestly states the brunet as peels out of his perspired jersey, tossing it halfheartedly onto the bench. 

    Chestnut hues are occupied with staring blatantly at the younger's chest, however, though he eventually works his gaze back up to the Frenchman's eyes. "Now you're being humble?" He scoffs then allows a devious smirk to flicker across his lips, blue hues gazing back at him curiously, quirking a brow: "I think you deserve something for this win tonight, don't you?"

    Thoroughly intrigued, the brunet quirks a brow, snatching up the shirt he had worn to the stadium and tugging up and over his head. One of his hands ruffle his hair, mussing the damp strands, his eyes narrowing inquisitively. "Like what? Beers on you? That's nothing new, Nando." 

    Fernando rolls his eyes at that, "More like getting you out of those ridiculous Sponge-bob briefs when we get back to the flat." 

    Clear blues widen considerably, nearly choking on air, as he glances around toward the rest of the still celebrating guys. "Uh," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, cheeks flushing darkly. "How'd you know they're Sponge-bob?"

    "You've gotta be kidding me."

    "Not really, no."

    It takes every ounce of the Spaniard's being not to roll his eyes once more, instead he crosses his arms then drums his digits against his bicep. "Your flat," sternly states the man as he leans forward to further muss the brunet's hair, to which he earns a protesting groan, one that he can only smile at. "Tonight we are victorious."

    With a parting wink, the man shifts on his heel to stroll towards the shrieking forms, one's that had newly acquired drinks. Anticipation dwells within the man as he hurries out of his shorts in favor of the denim jeans he had previously adorned, tugging them on hastily as to avoid any other prying eyes that would certainly tease him about his choice of undergarments.

-

    Stumbling out of the black van had to have been the most peculiar of sights to behold to the driver, who doesn't even bat an eye at the actions, and instead steadily drives off toward the road once more. Not that either of the two men notice its departure as the younger fishes for his keys to unlock the door, getting it open after three tries, until finally the two surge through the door.

    Once it was properly closed, with a swift kick from Fernando, he uses it to his advantage and shoves the younger against it. His head bangs roughly against it with a soft thud, the pain dull and throbbing, as he grips at the front of the elder's shirt to tug him impossibly close. Teeth clash violently, hands roaming beneath soft material, searching for every available of inch of skin they could discover.

    Fernando makes a grab for one of the younger's legs, wrapping it securely around the narrowness of his waist, before pressing more into the contours of Antoine's body. There, denim rubs against denim, satisfactory hums echoing from one to the other via mouth. Everything seemed to be moving in fast-forward, muses the younger, as he gains momentum in the kiss to eventually overpower Fernando. 

    There was no need for an alcoholic daze when kissing the older male delivered the same type of intoxication. He moans, low and heady, into his mouth when he feels the familiar press of a bulge against his lower abdomen, hips thrusting instinctively to meet the latter's halfway. Large hands are sliding beneath the press of two heaving chests to make quirk work of the fastenings of Antoine's jeans, tugging them down the length of milky thighs, then withdraws from the kiss with a reluctance that has him hissing through clenched teeth.

    Hazy hues gaze at the latter through thick lashes, lips reddened and prettily bruised, with a perplexity that has the elder male gripping his face between both hands to press another fierce kiss there. "Wha—What are you—.. Oh.."

    Those clouded eyes gaze down at the sight of the elder on his knees before him, a devious glint within those darkened chestnut hues, as he stares up at him. Then in seconds his mouth was wrapping around the outline of Antoine's cock through the bright yellow briefs he wears, receiving a mouthful of cotton, not that he minds at all.

    "Fernando," rasps the brunet as he threads thick fingers throughout his hair, brushing the still-damp strands out of his eyes so he can see them better, lips parting ever so slightly to release more fervent sounds.

    Large hands are rubbing up and down the length of smooth thighs as he mouths at the outline of his bulging cock. Chestnut hues flicker closed for a moment and open every few seconds to peer up at the brunet who's gaze is permanently etched on his face. At that, Fernando smirks smugly, shifting his mouth to suckle at the head of his cock through the material until a damp spot forms.

    Ivory teeth sink into an already bitten lower lip as he eyes the sight, fingers curling within silky locks, nails scratching along his scalp encouragingly. "Ne me faites pas attendre," breathes the brunet as he abandons one hand within Fernando's hair in favor of lifting up the lower half of his shirt.

    "One day you'll realize I don't speak French," cheekily retorts the male as he hooks his thumbs within the material to tug them achingly slow down the length of his thighs, not bothering to send them lower than that.

    "Then learn," scoffs the brunet, the sound fading into a moan when the flat of a tongue glides along the length of his cock: "M-merde. Cela se sent si bon."

    It comes out in a squeak that has the man on the floor snickering to himself, wrapping a warm hand snugly around the length of him, offering him a firm squeeze. "I understood that." 

    But the brunet is unable to retort, not when there's a hand tight around his cock, stroking him up and down. Blue eyes are practically rolling to the back of his head when a mouth is added to the mix and—and why is it so hard to focus on anything other than the sucking noises that erupt from below him. It's nearly deafening in the otherwise silent flat and vibrates against his eardrums, caressing them, assaulting them more like it.

    Still, he can't look away. Chestnut hues are peering up at him, teasing him, and he hisses at the sight alone. Fingers tighten unbearably within lengthy locks, earning himself a pained hiss, one that he ignores completely as he bucks his hips into the wet heat of Fernando's welcoming mouth. Hips roll in favor of the mouth surrounding him, more on their own accord than anything else, which was quickly becoming a nuisance for Fernando who has to press his hips forcefully back against the door.

    Antoine whimpers at the lack of heat once the elder releases his cock, stroking him once more. "Plan on choking me with your cock?" murmurs the elder who raises his brows, prompting a legitimate response.

    "Something like that, yeah.." His brunet head nods enthusiastically as he maintains a steady grip on the silky strands on the back of Fernando's head, keeping him firmly in place. "Est-ce que tu vas me donner ce que je veux?"

    Determination fills chestnut hues, almost as if he understood the challenge in those words, then resumes prior administrations. Once more that mouth surrounds his cock and takes him down until he chokes on a cry when the very tip of his cock prods against the back of Fernando's throat. For a moment, the man holds that position, making swallowing movements with his throat that have Antoine's legs weakly wobbling.

    Swears he goes cross-eyed at that, more so when he lets up on his cock, then surges forward once more, the flat of the latter's tongue caressing the underside of his cock. "F-fuck, merde, f-fils de—"

    Fernando releases his cock once more to teasingly lick at the head, dipping the very tip of his tongue into the slit, tasting the bitter substance. Antoine, who's eyes are half-lidded and barely open, blinks rapidly at the action while his hips thrust without abandon toward the mouth that opens for him once more. Lips wrap snugly around the head, sucking on him just so, while his hand occupies with stroking the rest of his pulsing length.

    "Cl-close," breathlessly whispers the brunet as he unconsciously hunches forward slightly. "So, so close.."

    Fingers tighten within his hair once more while hips thrust spasmodically into the snug heat of Fernando's mouth; once, twice, thrice—until he releases abruptly, spilling within his mouth. Breathless French spews from bitten lips as he continues to thrust mercilessly into the wet cavern that surrounds his girth, eyes flickering open and closed, locked on the chestnut one's that stare up at him as if he were some—some goddamn deity that deserves all of this and more—and..

    And then there's only white clouding his vision, head falling back against the door, the dull pain returning to further heighten his pleasure. All of a sudden he feels lightheaded and dizzy, legs trembling as he weakly attempts to remain upright, unable to think properly—at least about nothing other than the mouth that earnestly sucks at the head of his cock, milking every ounce of him.

    Then he's met with cool air when Fernando eases off of him, lips sealing tightly shut, though he maintains steady eye contact when swallowing the bitter mess. One of his hands comes up to stroke him lazily now, smirking fondly up at the brunet, who is still temporarily blind as he collapses against the door for support. Soon his thrusting hips come to a halt, the hand on his cock going slack as well; when he blinks to regain his vision, he's met with the sight of cum dribbling from the corner of Fernando's mouth, to which he eagerly licks at until no traces remain.

    "Oh mon putain de dieu," and yeah—he really, really feels like he may actually pass out now.

    But Fernando is one step ahead as he tugs the briefs back onto his hips, gently patting his thigh, before he pulls himself to his feet. He wipes at his sticky lips with the back of his hand, offering another cheeky smirk, as he effortlessly lifts the brunet once more. "I'm not done with you yet," warns the elder as he transports the two toward the closest surface—the couch—and deposits the younger upon it.

    Hands go to shield his face as he lays there, feeling the couch shift downward with the weight of Fernando's body, before he releases a weak groan. "No, no more—I feel like I'm gonna—like I'm gonna.." Lids flutter drowsily, the brunet releasing an exhausted sigh: "Just—Can I have a nap before we do that?"

    Fernando lifts the brunet's head and places it within his lap, fingers threading through the perspired strands: "You're adorable, you know that?"

    "Shut up, old man."

    "This old man has more endurance than you,"

    "You just—you just gave me the blow job of my deepest, wettest dreams and you—you really think I can function after it?" Antoine cracks an eye open to peer up at the latter, who glances down at him, lips quirking upward into another smile.

    Fernando hushes the boy, brushing the pad of his thumb along his lower lip, dipping it between his lips. He feels the wet press of a tongue against it, then teeth nibbling at it, before he removes it to brush away the strands of hair clinging to Antoine's forehead. "You still get wet dreams? At this age?"

    Cheeks, already scarlet and bright, darken considerably as he clenches his eyes tightly shut. "I hate you."

**Author's Note:**

> nothing says victory like scoring two goals and being ravished apparently.


End file.
